


I shall guard thy slumber

by amythestice



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 12:00:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21507592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amythestice/pseuds/amythestice
Summary: After the Apocaflop, Aziraphale finds himself back in the role of Guardian, for something more precious to him than even Eden.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	I shall guard thy slumber

Crowley stared blankly at the maroon car appearing through the cloud of darkness that had once been the now repudiated satanic father of the antichrist, feeling himself smile faintly at the huffy, officious tone of the totally human father the boy had declared his own.

He heard Aziraphale say something beside him, and his mouth answered on autopilot, but he had no idea what he had said because everything was becoming fuzzy and unfocussed.

Between one moment and the next the view in front of his eyes switched from the mundane human to the wide expanse of the sky with no sense of an in between action, though he was vaguely aware of a new pain at the back of his head and the unforgiving feel of asphalt beneath it. Aziraphale’s face leaned into his field of view, blue eyes worried and his mouth moving, but the words were as muffled as everything else.

He felt a pang of grief; he knew this feeling, the disconnecting swirl of a slow discorporation from extending his energies too far and this time he knew they wouldn’t be sending him back up after a Hellish amount of paperwork. This was going to be his last moment with his angel, and he would be damned _again_ if he was going without finally telling him outright how he had felt for the last 6 millennia. Pulling together every scrap of will and energy he still possessed, Crowley smiled.

“Love you angel, so much…sorry,” he breathed as darkness swallowed him.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened at the breathy words, and he felt his heart twist painfully as the demon, _his_ demon lost consciousness completely.

“Crowley, no,” he cried, gathering the limp form up against his chest, head lolling limply on his shoulder.

He could feel now how drained the demon was, feel the normally vital life force fading out.

He tried pushing his own energy at the other being, tried to bolster him, but Aziraphale was tired too, and the amount of energy he could spare was the equivalent of a single raindrop against the arid wastes of the Sahara.

Holding the still figure more tightly to him, he could feel tears escaping his eyes, this wasn’t right, they couldn’t have gotten through the end of the world only for Crowley to die _now_. He could hear the others moving cautiously closer but didn’t look up until Adam dropped to his knees across from him.

“What…is he…ok?” the boy asked hesitantly.

“He’s dying,” he responded simply, there was little point lying about the fact to the child, the end was too close.

“He can’t, we all got through it alive, he can’t die now,” Adam objected, echoing Aziraphale’s own denial.

“He gave everything he had to make sure we all got through alive,” Aziraphale choked.

Adam reached out tentatively with the power he still possessed, feeling for the Demon in front of him, wondering if he could return him to how he had been before now that the wave to restore everything that had been destroyed had already washed out, away from this place.

He knew instantly that he couldn’t; even at the height of his power, before he denied Satan it would have been beyond him. That didn’t, couldn’t, stop him from imagining, wanting, twisting and tweaking things. His thoughts flailed for a moment and snagged on something; his teacher in infant school, reading to the children at story time, and he formed his wish around that, pushed that wanting into the demon, changing the reality around him.

“I’m sorry, I wish I could do more but…he isn’t going to die. He’s not going to wake up until he’s strong again, it might…will be…a long time, maybe even a hundred years,” Adam stuttered.

“Sleeping beauty?” Aziraphale asked with a choked, teary laugh, earning a bashful nod from the child.

“Thank you, Adam; thank you for giving him, and me, this chance. He waited a very long time for me to catch up to him, I shan’t quibble at waiting for him now. You have my gratitude, if there is ever anything I can do for you…”

“You already did all I could possibly ask, I still have my friends, my world and my family thanks to you two. Just keep in touch, please?”

“I will, I promise,” Aziraphale promised.

“Can we…take you somewhere?” Mr Young asked hesitantly, still completely bemused and unsure what was going on.

“No, thank you, I need to get him somewhere safe before our former associates come looking for us,” Aziraphale said with a shaky smile, rising with the limp figure of Crowley cradled in his arms

He knew that he wasn’t going to get more than one chance at this, he only had the energy left to transport them once; but what would have been his first choice, the bookshop, was gone from what Crowley had said. Crowley’s flat was out, the security there had already been breached by Hell.

He smiled suddenly, he knew exactly where he could take Crowley; making sure he had a firm grip on the unconscious Demon, he focused on their destination, breathing the keyword to the wards as he transported them.

“Sanctuary,” he whispered, and they were gone from the airfield.

/x/

He appeared in the centre of the small sitting room, in the area they had always kept clear for teleporting in. The small cottage was dim, and there was a layer of dust on everything that made his nose wrinkle, but he could feel the warm buzz of the wards, the strength in them indicating that Crowley had renewed them in the last decade; they would be safe here.

He relaxed slightly looking around the place with a warm feeling of homecoming as he carried Crowley towards his bedroom. The cottage had been a joint purchase between them more than two hundred years ago, a place of sanctuary for them both. They had expanded the inside and modernized a little as the years passed, both taking turns to renew the wards, but they had never been here at the same time before now.

Entering Crowley’s bedroom, he frowned again at the thick layer of dust over everything, including the bed. He was loathe to lay Crowley there, but didn’t have the power to spare right now for something as frivolous as cleaning the room.

Switching his grip on Crowley so the demon was upright, supported against Aziraphale’s body by one strong arm, he reached with his now free hand to strip back the covers from the bed, careful to avoid raising a cloud of dust as he did, and gently setting him down on the reasonably clean sheet.

Aziraphale settled into the practical mindset that had seen him through two world wars of volunteering at hospitals. Within an hour he had Crowley washed clean of soot, blood and dirt, dressed in pyjamas and safely ensconced in fresh bedding, all without using a hint of magic; he put the dusty bedding out in the hallway to be dealt with later, took care of cleaning himself up and then lay down on the other side of the bed from his demon, resting one hand lightly over his heart so he could feel the slow, steady beat and allowed sleep to claim him.


End file.
